flip-flops (5)

Nothing was sharp anymore. Just noise. She smiled when she was supposed to, responded when needed. But inside, she lived with the flip-flops. Stepping around them. Day after day.

It was her sister who finally brought it up. “You have to let go of the ghost objects,” Sarah said gently, staring at the shoes near the door. “They’re just flip-flops,” Nina said. “You say that, but you haven’t moved them.”

And Nina had wanted to scream, No, I haven’t moved them because he’s going to come back and put them on and ask what’s for dinner and whether the band can rehearse in the garage.